


D.A.D

by sexiudreams (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Series: Goodbye Christmas [3]
Category: Z.Tao (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Parents, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 10:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13433265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/sexiudreams
Summary: Part 3of Goodbye Christmas, happening at the same time as We Searched the Universe----Zitao is now a single dad, looking after his three year old son, Yang. After a messy divorce, and a longing to visit his Korean family, he's not looking for anyone else, it's just him and Yang. But maybe the right guy might come back from the past.





	D.A.D

Marriage was never really something Zitao had looked forward to, even with the prospect of children. Adopting would have been his better option, he thought, looking at the list of fees from his divorce lawyer. Bai Fan had been perfect when he met her at a fan signing, had smiled and flirted softly, but maturely, and he had fallen for her then and there. Weeks later, he bumped into her in a restaurant and had promptly asked her for her number and if he could take her out on a date. She told him to text her, and he had. It hadn’t taken him long to fall in love with her, and quickly, they got their own place, and Zitao had proposed. His parents had pressured him to make sure he took a pre-nup, but he had refused, he trusted Fan more than that. One child, two affairs, and a divorce later, Zitao winced looking over everything she was getting from their six years together. It was a dent, that much could be said, and he sighed.  
  
Zitao turned his head, looking at his son, Huang Yang, sat on the couch, flicking through a book. Zitao let himself have a proud smile for a moment, only three years old, Yang could read through a large amount of books that were much too advanced for most kids’ reading levels his age, and Zitao sighed. “Yang.” He held his hands out. “Can Daddy get a hug?”  
  
For a moment, he thought his son hadn’t heard him, or had ignored him, but Yang put the book down and came running over, almost waddling. He still wasn’t confident enough in walking, but Zitao could ask him to walk to Japan, and he’d go running. Zitao picked him up and pushed the papers away from his keen, reading eyes and settled back, holding his son in his arms. Yang made a noise, but didn’t move other than to cuddle up against Zitao. Zitao leaned his head back enough to look at his boy, gently stroking through the dark mess of hair, that his son refused to let him brush. His light brown eyes reflected the sun in the window, and Zitao smiled softly, kissing his son’s head, leaning against is and closing his eyes. He still remembered when Yang had been born, clinging to Fan's hand and offering her as many soothing words as he could, squeezing her hand, telling her she was doing an amazing job; eventually, after a seven hour labour, Zitao was passed a tiny bundle, kicking out a little, crying weakly, and he felt his heart grow warm.  
  
His tiny son had kicked around, and eventually stopped crying, eyes opening to stare up at Zitao as he brushed his finger down his son’s tiny, tiny cheek. He had choked up, mumbled a soft _hey there_ before he stood up, gently handing him to Fan. She cradled him, softly, and looked up at Zitao with wide eyes, looking shocked, stuttering out _he’s so tiny_. They had sat in silence, both of them fawning over their son before Fen had looked up. “Yang. Huang Yang.”  
Yang, like the ocean, like nearly everything in his life, connected to the ocean. Hailang. Oceans apart. And now his son, tiny Yang, and Zitao couldn’t help but nod as he wiped his tears away. “It’s perfect for him.” Zitao had laughed, remembering he was conceived on a boat in Cancun, and then went back to stroking his son’s almost bald head, smiling and cooing at him.  
  
That was probably the last positive memory he had of Fan, other than the joint ones with his son. The affairs had started not long after Yang was first born, and Zitao had been oblivious, swept up with parenting his son and still recording and touring when he could. The first time he had found out, his son was two. Zitao had come home early from tour, looking forward to seeing his family for the first time in two months, only to find Yang in his crib, screaming and crying, kicking out, looking for a diaper change. Zitao had scooped him up, hushed him softly, bouncing him and wondered if maybe Fan had fallen asleep without the baby monitor on. He carefully changed Yang, kissing his tiny nose, and he had settled down for a moment before starting to cry again. Zitao quickly figured out it was because he was hungry, and carefully walked around the house holding his bottle, calling out for his wife. Three hours later, she had returned, a little tipsy, and reeking of sex. Zitao had just put Yang down to sleep for the night, and they had a hushed argument in the living room, both of them going at each other.  
  
Fan had ended the relationship in front of Zitao, and things had been fine, for another year, until Zitao had come home to find her having sex with some guy on the couch, Yang screaming for attention upstairs. He hadn’t given it a second thought and ordered her out; his lawyer served her with divorce papers two mornings later. Court had been hard but Zitao didn’t care how much of his money Fan got out of it; all he cared about was she didn’t get his son. After months of fighting in court, almost a year, dragging all her dirty, sordid affairs out, with clips and audio and video from the baby monitor of her ignoring their son, or leaving him in the house alone for hours to have some dirty cheap affair in a motel, the court had granted him sole custody. Visitation rights were yet to be decided.  
  
Their son had dealt with infections from being left in his own mess, Fen too busy getting laid to change him, and Zitao’s lawyer was fighting for her to have none. For now, Zitao didn’t care what was going on with court. Kissing his son’s head again, he smiled. “What are you reading?”  
  
Yang shrugged a little, seemingly not caring to the question his Dad had asked, but Zitao knew likely, he just didn’t know what it was called. It wouldn’t be the first time Yang had just picked a book up without even looking at the name and had started to read it. Zitao rocked them gently, thinking about his old life in Korea for a moment, how many times he had taken his son to visit when he was tiny, too tiny to remember it. “Remember all your uncles, in Korea? The ones I told you about and showed you pictures of?”  
  
Yang looked up with a garble and nodded. “Uncle MinMin!” Zitao laughed softly and cuddled his son close. “How about we go visit Uncle MinMin and all your other Uncles? Hmm? You can meet all their little boys and girls and I’m sure Uncle MinMin and Uncle Juny will let us stay for a while. Hm?”  
  
Yang garbled something in his own language, and Zitao raised his eyebrows. “Is that what you think?” He squealed and reached up and Zitao stood him up so Yang could stand on his thighs, wrapping his arms around Zitao’s neck before he started shrieking yes, repeatedly. Zitao almost fell off his chair at the onslaught to his ears, but pulled his son back a little. “Alright, alright.” Zitao laughed and set him back down on the ground, watching him potter back off to the couch to pick his book up again.  
  
Zitao stared at the court papers, before checking his phone. He sent a quick text to his lawyer – _can I take Yang over to Korea for a week or something? Let him have a break from all the court councillors, all the doctors, everything?_ \- before sitting back and staring at the court papers again, shaking his head. He should have listened to his parents. His phone buzzed, and Zitao glanced at it, before he was straight on the phone with the airline, booking two tickets to Korea. He needed to get away.


End file.
